


Fireworks Like The Fourth of July

by TehSoulCookie



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: In the Shower, M/M, Masturbation, Other, PWP, Steve is actually a very naughty boy, Things I write because my muse demands it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-23
Updated: 2012-06-23
Packaged: 2017-11-08 09:04:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/441534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TehSoulCookie/pseuds/TehSoulCookie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve takes some private time in the shower.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fireworks Like The Fourth of July

Everyone thought dirty thoughts in the shower. It was like it was inscribed into the human genome of something. And Steve Rogers was no exception. 

Where, you ask, did his mind normally tend to wander? Well, back in the day (and yes, he would use those exact words), he’d mainly day dreamed (or shower dreamed, whatever the fuck you wanna call it) about Peggy Carter. Though sometimes Bucky would be there instead, but Steve tried to ignore those ones.

There had even been on instance that his mind had wandered to Howard Stark.

Nowadays, however, with Peggy and Bucky and Howard and every-fucking-one he knew gone, his mind had limited places to go that didn’t make his heart clench in not fun ways.

One of those places was to Tony Stark. (Oh who am I kidding, that was the only place, the boy had fallen and fallen  _hard_.) 

Pressing his hand against the smooth, wet tile of the shower, Steve groaned, biting his lip to mask the sound, self-training from his military days kicking in.

Images of Tony, naked, bent over a table, or a work bench, or the couch, spread out on a bed, pressed against a wall, on his knees, fuck just Tony’s smirk, flashed behind his eyes as his hand pumped up and down quickly. 

His breath came in ragged gasps, his hips snapped and bucking in rhythm with his hand. His other hand moved from the wall, and he pressed his cheek to the cool tile.

The images still came, fast and free, his hand reaching back with practiced movements. (He’d done this more than he would admit, though if he’d ever admit to even doing the wanking part, the world may never know.) He pressed one finger past the ring of muscle, groaning as he did. A second finger joined the first easily, and he pumped them in and out of himself in time with the thrusts of his hips.

He brushed his prostate, and, wow, those were some fireworks, it had to be the fourth of July or something, cause  _damn_. Steve let out a strangled breath, pressing and stroking his fingers against the spot that shot the fireworks off again and again. 

His knees grew weak and he sank to the floor of the shower, forehead pressing into the tile as his ass stuck up in the air. 

“T-Tony,” He moaned, both hands working furiously now, his mind a fog of  _sogoodfuckmoreneeditTonyfuckyespleaseohgod._ He felt the familiar pressure in his gut, the one that told him he was about to explode like those Hydra bases had, but it was going to be  _so much more fucking satisfying_  than blowing up some base ever could be.

His breath caught in his throat, the strangled sound of Tony’s name leaving his lips as his vision whited out. He spasmed, spending himself of the tile and his hand, body shaking as the orgasm worked through him. 

He stayed perfectly still for what seemed like forever, until he was finally able to pull his fingers free (and  _holy fuck_  did that sting, he was lucky to have the accelerated healing,  but damn it also felt shitty to lose that full feeling) and he collapsed.

After a few more moments, he was able to pull himself to his feet, still shaky after the earth shatterer that had been his orgasm. He finished washing up (which went a hell of a lot faster than the other portion of his shower had, he’d tell you what) and stepped out, wrapping a towel around his waist.

It was times like this he was thankful for having a bathroom adjoining his bedroom as he exited and flopped face down right onto the bed.

But there was something wrong. There was a dip in the bed already, another body next to him. He only had enough energy to lift his head for a peak.

His face flushed brighter than the red stripes on the American flag (though he’d deny that later) at the smirking form laying there on his bed.

“Have fun in there, Cap?” Tony’s smirk only widened (the fucker he’d been listening the whole time, fuck fuck fuck!) when Steve’s head plopped back down and he groaned.

“Please tell me you heard nothing.”

“Oh, I heard  _everything_.” Tony crawled over to Steve, smirk somehow even wider, and he kissed the super solider’s shoulder (and if that isn’t the greatest alliteration, then fuck you).

Steve only turned his head enough to raise an eyebrow. Tony returned the gesture, his fingers dancing down Cap’s spine.

“You and me, we’re gonna have a good time.”

Steve’s answering smile spoke volumes.

After that, Steve never had to imagine what Tony looked like naked and in various positions. 

He knew them all.


End file.
